


The Blame Game

by Row93



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Because no one can convince me the batkids don't swear, Brothers, Family Shenanigans, Gen, Humor, One of them's a, Pranks, Rated T for swearing, Sickfic, Tim is a little Shit, especially Jason, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-02 01:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17878427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Row93/pseuds/Row93
Summary: Tim’s about to unlock Jason’s front door when he notices its open. Strange. He nudges the door further open carefully and takes a peek-“Hey, replacement.” Jason greets him way too cheerfully.He’s dressed in sweats and his hair on one side is sticking up in all directions. He looks like he just woke up, but more importantly, he’s holding someone, or several someones, at gunpoint just out of Tim’s view.Tim just drops his head back and lets out a bone-weary sigh. “Fuck my life.”orStuff keeps happening to Tim and its. not. his. fault.





	1. Jason

**Author's Note:**

> My first (posted) fanfiction since a loooong time. I'm totally back in a DC Comics mood.  
> Kinda mixing up all kinds of timelines for this one. Pre-new 52, Rebirth whatever. I just like having all the batkids semi living together in the Manor.

It’s nice, Tim supposes, to have no crazy murder sprees going on for once. He feels almost…normal. Like he’s a nice normal high school student, collecting his stuff from his locker, having a nice normal geeky conversation with his nice normal classmate. Very _mundane_. Yes. It’s nice to be able to relax a little and actually do things that don’t have an ulterior motive. Unless you’d count pleasing Alfred by ‘taking part in normal adolescent activities’ as ulterior motive. But whatever. It’s why he has actually invited Liam Newburg, lover of all things science fiction and fellow algebra student, over to watch a movie at the manor.

“He never died, he crawled out of the sarlacc pit.” Tim tells his classmate as he pulls his algebra book from his locker, “You should catch up on the extended universe.”

Convincing Liam that Boba Fett is the single greatest Star Wars character ever turns out to be almost on par with solving one of Batman’s open cases.

 Liam gives him an incredulous look then proceeds to cram more books into his backpack. “Please don’t tell me your butler is picking us up.” he says, wisely changing the subject, “Cause that would be, I dunno, kinda awkward.”

Tim can’t help but grimace a little at that. Sometimes he hates the rich kid image that comes with being a Wayne. Or a Drake. Both last names kinda suck in that aspect really.

“Nah. I’ve got my own ride.” He swings his backpack over his shoulder, “Mind if we make a little stop on the way? I gotta pick something up at my br-friend’s place.”

He keeps forgetting that Jason is still legally dead. They should really do something about that these days. Especially now that that Jay is back on speaking terms with Bruce. More or less…

Liam is only mildly impressed by Tim’s car which is a bonus and they switch from discussing Star Wars characters to whichever Star Trek show was the best one as they drive through Gotham. Once again Tim finds that he has an unpopular opinion, but dammit, he won’t let anyone tell him that Voyager wasn’t the BEST Star Trek show out of them all.

By the time they arrive at Jason’s apartment building they’ve agreed to disagree.

“You have a friend that lives _here_?”

Tim eyes the run-down building and shrugs, “He says the rent is cheap.” And that the landlord is easy to bribe, but he doesn’t say _that_ part out loud.

He parks the car and gets out.

“I’ll be right back, should only take a minute.” He gestures for Liam to wait in the car and lets himself into the building with a set of keys that he has absolutely not copied without permission and heads up the stairs. He texted Jay this morning that he’d swing by and usually around this time his brother will be catching up on sleep. Lucky bastard doesn’t even have to pretend to have a day job. Or sit through classes. Perks of being dead.

He’s about to unlock Jason’s front door when he notices its open. Strange. He nudges the door further open carefully and takes a peek-

“Hey, replacement.” Jason greets him way too cheerfully.

He’s dressed in sweats and his hair on one side is sticking up in all directions. He looks like he just woke up, but more importantly, he’s holding someone, or several someones, at gunpoint just out of Tim’s view.

Tim just drops his head back and lets out a bone-weary sigh. “Fuck my life.”

“Excuse me. You’re not the one facing this piss poor assassination attempt.” Jason retorts, vaguely gesturing with his guns, “On three?”

Of course. Of _course_ he can’t have a normal afternoon. What was he even expecting? He’s part of the most dysfunctional family in existence.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” Tim says and gets in a fighting stance, “Just..try to keep the shooting to a minimum? I’ve got a friend waiting for me.”

“Sure thing. One-“

Tim doesn’t wait for three, and instead kicks the door open with so much force that the assailants barely have a chance to respond. There’s four of them, wearing black, lower parts of their faces hidden behind cloth. Carrying not-quite-army-grade-guns so he mentally classifies them as not-quite-supervillain-grade enemies.

Jason catches on to his tactic pretty quick and shoots the one closest to Tim in the leg with his right gun while expertly hurling his left gun full in the face of the assailant furthest to his left.  Then he launches himself at the one in the middle while Tim makes use of the confusion by vaulting over shot-in-the-leg-guy and bodily tackling the one that’s left to the ground.

“What the hell you do this time?” Tim grunts out between punches, “Ruffle some mob boss’s feathers again?”

Jason grins as he slams his elbow in his opponents face. There is a crack of breaking bone.

“Fuck if I know.”

His opponent goes down. Splayed on the floor next to the other one. Tim gives left-over guy one last kick in the ribs.  Then they both turn on shot-in-the-leg-guy who immediately raises his hands in surrender. The whole thing has taken them less than a minute.

“I give up!”

“Yeah, that’s not how this works, buddy. “ Jason says, grabbing him by his collar and slamming him into the wall. Right next to his open front door and Liam who’s standing there with his mouth hanging open so far it almost looks comical.

Jason says, “Who the fuck are you?” at the same time as Tim says, “Shit.”

Liam doesn’t say anything, but slowly takes a step back, his eyes flitting around the room.

“Uhm, I can explain?” Tim offers, trying very hard to ignore the blood dripping in little splats from his fists on an unconscious face. It’s quite possible that Liam has seen the entire ordeal. And that would mean biiiiig trouble…

Jason lets out a chuckle while keeping shot-in-the-leg-guy in a choke hold, “Well this is awkward.”

“I.. I heard a gunshot.” Liam stammers out and Tim narrows his eyes at Jason who shrugs like he doesn’t give a damn that they’ve basically blown their identities.

“Liam, I promise I’ll explain everything,” Tim says, holding up his hands in what he hopes is a placating manner, his mind already going through all the contingency plans for situations like this, “It’s just...”

And he honestly has no clue how to continue that sentence. If he’d been alone against one man he could have chalked his fighting skills up to self defence training and a healthy dose of luck. But there’s no way he can talk himself out of three unconscious men and his crazy brother threatening a fourth. Bruce is gonna kill him...

From the corner of his eye he sees Jason wink at him.

Uh oh.

“What my little bro is trying to say,“ Jason says as he releases his hold on the man he’s choking, letting the poor bastard slide to the floor with a _whumpf,_ “Is that I’m the Red Hood. And short stack here is known as Red Robin.”

Tim can’t do anything but guffaw as his brother calmly walks over Liam and drapes an arm over his shoulders. Like he hasn’t just admitted to a high school student that he’s a trigger happy lunatic who occasionally shows his good side. Liam on the other hand, looks anything but calm. Uncomfortable would be the understatement of the century. He looks ready to run, cry and faint at the same time. Kinda how Tim feels right now actually.

“What the _fuck,_ Jason?” he manages to ground out.

He’s so deep into trouble that he’ll be grounded until old age. Bruce is never gonna let him leave the Manor for the rest of his _life._ Bruce isn’t gonna kill him. That would be a mercy. He’s gonna fake his death and pretend like Tim Drake doesn’t exist anymore, while keeping him in the darkest, loneliest part of Wayne manor until he won’t remember his own name. And it’s all Jason’s fault.

Liam lets out a strangled sound that is both disturbing and painfully accurate applied to the situation at hand. He points a shaking finger at Tim.

“You’re.. _Red Robin?_ ”

“Uhm. I’m not supposed to.. Uhm. Yes?”

Deepest, darkest, coldest cellar in Wayne manor. How could he ever believe that he could have a normal day?

“You worry too much, Timbo.”

Jason doesn’t seem to give the impending consequences of their predicament a second thought. Instead he nonchalantly pulls a syringe out of his pocket and proceeds to jam it into Liam’s neck. The teen’s eyes widen for a second and then drift shut. Only Jason’s arm is stopping him from flopping to the floor like a sack of flour.

Tim on the other hand is torn between bursting into tears and laughing hysterically. He ends up making a sound somewhere in between the two until Jason snaps his fingers under his nose.

“Earth to baby bird.”

Tim blinks slowly back into existence and his eyes focus on Jason with a _snap._

“I’m screwed. I am _so_ screwed. This is all _your_ fault. With your stupid ass open door policy to criminals. If I’m gonna be dead to the world and locked into the Manor forever I’m taking you down with me. You’re already dead anyway. We can share water and bread for the rest of all eternity-” judging by Jason’s barely concealed glee he’s babbling. Dick says he does that when he’s nervous or stressed. Fuck that. He’s _beyond_ stressed at this point. He’s on the verge of a goddamn mental breakdown.

“Geez, Tim, take it easy. I’m not that big of an idiot.” Jason says, as he lowers Liam to the floor with more care than Tim thought he had in him. Then he moves to the closest tug and starts tying him up with some zip ties he seems to have procured out of thin air.

“I dosed your friend with a new concoction. Works pretty fast and effects only short-term memory. He won’t remember the last thirty minutes or so when he wakes up. I’ll do the same to these assholes. They came for the Red Hood, just happened to catch me at a bad time. Our precious identities are safe.” Jason says, while tying up his attackers one by one.

“Screw you.” Tim says because he can.

Jason takes a moment to look at his handywork, before sighing deeply and dragging a hand through his now thoroughly mussed up hair, “I liked this fucking apartment. Just got all my books moved here too. Now I’ve gotta set up another false name.”

He turns to look at Tim, “Can you let Alf know I’m coming over for a few nights? Seems I’m between places again.”

Tim narrows his eyes at his brother before moving to Liam and lifting him over his shoulder with a grunt, “Call him yourself”, then he fishes the copied keys from his pocket and throws them at Jason’s face, “Guess I don’t need these anymore.”

Jason barely manages to snatch them out of the air and frowns when he looks at what he’s holding in his hand. The he levels a glare at Tim that is meant to be disapproving but doesn’t entirely hide the layer of amusement underneath.

“You little shit. When did you do this?”

Tim is already half way out the door with his classmate’s arms dangling against his back. He doesn’t even look behind him as he flips Jason off and stomps out of the apartment.

Later, after he has successfully wrestled Liam into his car and is already half way home the Manor, he tells a very groggy classmate that he fell asleep. Must be the stress from school. They manage to watch the first part of the Bourne Trilogy before Liam excuses himself because of a headache and Tim may feel the barest hint of guilt about that. But all in all, it’s not a total waste of a free afternoon.

 It’s even worth it when he’s woken up at 2 am by Jason angrily yelling his name from the bedroom next to his. Yes, Tim thinks as he pulls his covers further up,  a grin on his face. Maybe a waste of 17 rolls of cellophane, but definitely not a waste of a free afternoon. Revenge is sweet.

 


	2. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tim.” Dick says, ”You can’t give me the silent treatment all day.” 
> 
> Tim raises his head and gives Dick a glare over his shoulder that says watch me, before pulling the blanket all the way over his head. It results in having his feet poking out on the other side but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. 
> 
> “Fine. Don’t talk to me then.”

“Uuuuggghhh…“ Tim says.

First he was too hot. Now he’s too cold. His blanket is tangled around his legs because he tried to kick it off when he was too hot but now his feet are stuck. He pretty sure his fever is rising and his stomach is not happy with him at the moment. Life without a spleen sucks.

“huuugghhffhhh.” He says again to no one in particular.

From the other side of the den Dick lowers his comic book and sighs, “What is it this time?”

Tim makes sure to groan enough to make it known how miserable he feels as he rolls over to his side to face his older brother. Then he pointedly shifts his eyes to his tangled-up blanket and back to Dick.

“Really, Tim?” Dick says, but he gets up anyway to untangle the blanket and cover Tim’s shivering form once again. When he tries to feel the teen’s forehead his hand is batted away.

“I think your fever’s getting worse.”

Tim just rolls his eyes at him. He already figured that out an hour ago when he started feeling hot and cold at the same time. But instead of telling Dick that he pokes one hand out from his blanket and makes a drinking motion. Then he quickly pulls it back because it’s cold in the den. At least he thinks so. His internal temperature is a little screwed up at the moment.

“Words, little brother. Use your words.” Dick grumbles even though Tim knows that Dick knows perfectly well what Tim means. Dick is pretty much fluent in Tim-speak.

Tim coughs in his hand then says “Fuck you.” in a barely audible whisper before turning his back on his brother.

“You’re mean when you’re sick.” Dick whines, “Want some tea or just water?”

Tim’s shrug is barely visible from under his blanket, but he hears Dick’s footsteps leave the room anyway. He dozes a bit until he hears Dick put down a glass with a _clunk_ on the side table next to him. Then a finger pokes his back.

“Wake up, Timmy. I brought you juice.”

Tim doesn’t want juice. He also doesn’t want Dick hovering over him like a mother hen. So he ignores the poking and feigns sleep. But Dick was the first bird to be trained by the world’s greatest detective so he sees through his act pretty fast.

“Tim.” Dick says, ”You can’t give me the silent treatment all day.”

Tim raises his head and gives Dick a glare over his shoulder that says _watch me,_ before pulling the blanket all the way over his head. It results in having his feet poking out on the other side but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. After about a minute it becomes a bit hard to breathe though, so he lifts the blanket a little bit to create an air hole.

“Fine. Don’t talk to me then.” Dick sighs.

For a second Tim thinks that Dick is actually going to leave him alone until he feels a pull on his blanket. He tries to hold on to it for dear life but being sick has made his muscles feel like jello and the only thing he can do is make a weak whining sound as his brother pulls the blanket away from his face and back over his feet. Dick then pulls him into a sitting position and places the juice in his hands.

“Drink.” He orders.

Tim glares at him for a full minute before finally giving in and slowly sipping from the juice, pointedly ignoring the look of triumph on Dick’s face. He gets about halfway through the glass when his stomach decides its enough. With shaking hands he places the glass back on the side table and lies back down, closing his eyes as he tries to breathe through a wave of nausea.

It’s not working.  

Dick must have realized that too because as soon as Tim shoots up from his laying position, a look of desperation on his face, a bucket is shoved in his hands.

He feels one hand holding back his hair and another rubbing circles on his back as he empties his stomach. As his retching turns into dry heaving he hears Dick give an awkward chuckle.

“Look at that. You could almost put it back in the glass.”

Tim would have laughed at his brother’s dry tone, but he’s too busy with laying back down and taking deep breaths, trying to get his shaking body under control. The vomiting has taken the last bit of energy out of him and right now he’s slowly sinking into that nice floating sensation of relief after throwing up. Distantly he hears the bucket being taken away. He’s not sure he’s entirely awake when Dick hold a glass of water to his lips so he can rinse his mouth.

As he feels a hand gently carding through his hair he whispers, “This is all your fault” to Dick before drifting off to sleep.

.

Later he’s dimly aware of someone carrying him to his room and tucking him into his bed. He’s not sure if its Dick or Bruce. He’s too tired to care either.

.

The second time Tim wakes there are voices outside his door.

“ _He’ll be fine without you, Dick. Alfred will take care of him. I need you on patrol._ ”

That’s definitely Bruce. He would recognize the low timbre in his voice anywhere.

“ _I know…. I just feel guilty because I know he caught if from it me. I knew I was still sick and should have steered clear from him_. _It always hits him so much harder._ ”

That has to be Dick. Tim may feel the slightest bit of guilt about the hard time he’s been giving him.

“ _There’s nothing to feel guilty about. These things tend to happen when you lose a spleen. Now go get changed. I’ll check on Tim and then join you.”_

He hears Dick’s footsteps fade in the hallway and then his door opens slowly. Bruce can move without making a noise if he wants to, the fact that he isn’t lets Tim know that he wants to announce his presence. So he turns around in his blanket burrito to face his adoptive father.

“Huuuffggh” he says by way of greeting.

He feels the bed dip as Bruce sits on the edge. Then a hand brushes some strands of hair away from his face, before settling on his shoulder, “That bad?” Bruce asks.

Tim just lets out a _hmm_ that could be interpreted as confirmation or as just another groan of misery.

“I’m taking Damian and Dick on patrol with me.”

Tim’s eyes have drifted shut again as he feels the weight leave his matrass. He dips his head in a faint nod.

“Alright, drink enough fluids.”

He nods again, then feels Bruce’s fingers gently brush his forehead, “Let Alfred know if you start feeling worse. He’ll bring you some meds later.”

Tim burrows himself deeper in his blanket burrito. Bruce’s footsteps make it till the door, then he _feels_ rather then hears the man turn around once more.

“And maybe you should cut Dick some slack.” Bruce says before the door closes.

Tim waits until he’s absolutely sure that Bruce has left the room before pulling his hand free from his blanket burrito and raising his middle finger to where Bruce was standing before.

.

Tim’s revenge plan the next day is simple. Sneak into the cave, add some itching powder to Dick’s motorcycle helmet, sneak back out. He waits until Bruce has taken Damian and Dick on patrol once again. Alfred comes by to check on him then heads to bed himself. Then he waits a bit longer.

When Tim is absolutely sure the Manor is quiet, he wraps a blanket around his shoulders like a cape and slips out of bed. He’s been asleep on and off for the past twenty-four hours, finally breaking his fever, so he feels a little better. But the trek towards the cave takes him longer then he wants because his body is still sore all over and his muscles are stiff from laying in bed all day. He’s forced to sit down several times to catch his breath. But he makes it down to the cave eventually.

Cracking the code to Dick’s locker is a piece a cake, because his brother is a sentimental sob and hasn’t changed his code once since Tim first entered the cave when he was thirteen years old. He can’t help the juvenile grin breaking out on his face as he rubs a handful of itching powder into the lining of Dick’s helmet. Jason would be proud.

Tim’s in the process of getting rid of the evidence when he hears the roar of the batmobile in the distance.

Uh oh.

There’s no way he’s gonna make it all the way up the stairs in his state. So its time for plan B. Pretend to have snuck down here to work on some cases because he got bored. Which is honestly not even that far from the truth.

He settles himself in front of the batcomputer with his blanket around him and pulls up some files. Then he shuffles some papers around to make it look like he’s been going over notes. To add a final touch he runs his hands through the mess that is his hair to make it look just crazy enough. By the time the batmobile rolls to a stop Tim looks like he has been there for hours. He’s counting on Bruce causing a ruckus as soon he finds Tim’s sick butt in the cave, hopefully providing him with a getaway before Dick finds his helmet.

Tim is not disappointed.

He can’t help letting out a _squawk_ of surprise as he swivels his chair around and finds the Batman looming over him at his full height. He didn’t even hear Bruce getting out of the car.

 “ _Timothy Jackson_ ” Bruce growls, still using his Batman voice.

Tim winces at the use of his middle name, shrinking back in the chair as far as he can. Bruce acting the stern parent can be frightening. Batman using the disappointed parent voice is downright _terrifying._ From behind Bruce he can see Dick giving him a look of sympathy and once again he feel a twinge of guilt. But it’s too late now.

“You’re going back upstairs _right now_.” 

Tim’s about to protest, put on a good show, but as soon as he gets up a spell of dizziness hits him and he has to sit back down. On the other side of the cave he can hear Damian huff. He makes a mental note to add Damian to his list of revenge pranks.

Bruce gives him all but five seconds to shake off the dizziness before he grabs Tim by his arm and marches him towards the stairs. And maybe, just maybe that’s a good thing, cause Tim’s pretty sure that he wouldn’t have been able to make it back to his bed by himself at this point.

As he’s being walked up the stairs he looks over his shoulder, giving Dick his sly grin that Jason calls his I’m-a-little-shit-grin, before leaning more heavily into Bruce. He can hear Dick choke behind him as Bruce slings an arm over his shoulders to support more of his weight.

The last thing Tim hears before exiting the cave is Dick sputtering, “Bruce. _Bruce._ He did something.  _Don't_  buy into his act!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks for all the response! Second of all, I like writing these. Maybe I'll write some more, but we'll see.


End file.
